A Baby Hawk in the Nest
by hawkeyethehotguy
Summary: Prompt: Natasha telling Clint she's pregnant. Clintasha. The test is positive and the master assassin is unnerved like never before. Now Natasha must come to terms with the pregnancy all while continuing her job as an Avenger.
1. The Test

**Uh-oh, Natasha is pregnant! How is she supposed to break the news to Clint? **

**I actually enjoyed this prompt quite a bit! In the near future, I might continue this one in a full feature story. I'll keep you posted.**

**I don't own Marvel, etc.**

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Her heart pounded and her head raced. She glared down at the white and blue stick on the bathroom countertop. Slowly, two pink lines appeared. Oh shit. Oh shit. She paced back and forth in the ridiculously over-sized bathroom at her apartment in Stark Tower.

She'd rather be facing ten men- no, one hundred men- armed to the brim in the middle of a brutal Russian winter storm. She'd rather be chased through Manhattan by a very green and very angry Bruce Banner. She'd rather be trapped in a padded cell with the God of Mischief himself. Anything but this.

She couldn't be pregnant! Her current line of work didn't exactly lend itself well for the family life. She was a murderer, an assassin, a spy, and she was most definitely not the mothering type.

A baby. What was she going to do with a baby? Drop it off at the daycare down the street whenever S.H.I.E.L.D. sent her on a mission halfway around the world? Tony would probably want to babysit. There was ho way her baby getting anywhere near Sta-

No! What was she thinking! She can't have a baby. It would just be in danger. It would get in the way. It would distract and disrupt. It would be too needy. She didn't have the patience to be a mother. But Clint would make a good fath- Shit.

How was she going to tell Clint. Oh god. For a master assassin that almost never lost her cool, she was quickly flying into a full-blown panic attack. She stopped pacing the floor and stared at herself in the mirror, her cold blue eyes filled with the ghosts of her past. She couldn't be a mother. She didn't even know how to be a mother. It's not like she had the most normal childhood- being raised to become a skilled killer didn't constitute as a normal. And Clint's childhood was just as fucked up as hers…

A light rap at the door cause her to jump slightly.

"You okay, Nat?" Clint called from the other side of the door. "You've been in there for ten minutes. Stark called a meeting…" He waited for some sort of reply but he was greeted with only silence. "Natasha?"

He gently clicked the door open and peered inside. She stood over the sink, head down, fingers grasping the granite so tightly he thought she was going to snap the counter in half.

"Nat, what's wrong?" He asked worriedly, closing the distance between them in four hurried steps. He'd never seen her so… worked up- and that was saying something.

She felt his hand lightly press down on her shoulder and she let out a shaky breath. Okay, she told herself, now or never. Just spit it out. Like ripping off a bandaid.

"Impregnan," she mumbled, unable to form the words. This was going to be harder than she thought.

"What was that?" he raised an eyebrow.

She let out a deep sign and turned to face him. "I'm… pregnant." She watched as his pale blue eyes popped open, wider than she thought was humanly possible. He didn't speak, he just stared blankly at her.

This was bad, worse than she had thought. She was pregnant, he was the father, and neither one of them were cut out to be parents. And his silence just added to her already sky-high blood pressure. Couldn't he say anything? Couldn't he frown or smile or laugh or scream or do something!

"Clint…" she watched him carefully.

He snapped out of whatever trance he had slipped into at the sound of his name. She looked up at him expectantly and he grinned down at her.

Her eyebrows knitted together. "What?"

"We're having a baby," he beamed. He couldn't stop smiling as he cupped her face in his hands.

"You're not upset?" she asked in astonishment.

He shook his head vigorously. "Why would I be upset?"

"We can't be parents Clint. We're not…" she whispered. Doubt rolled over her like a tidal wave.

"Not what? I think we'd be fucking awesome parents, Nat," he smirked.

"You think so?" Her voice began to shake against her will and she cursed her body for reacting so weakly.

Give her a city full of aliens hellbent on destroying the world and she's as cool as a cucumber. But this was different. Killing was easy, killing was simple. Sure, she could take a hundred lives easy enough. But keeping one alive and nurtured?

Clint nodded and pressed his lips to her forehead. "Yes."

Suddenly, all skepticism and apprehension lifted from her. He was so confidant. Maybe they could care for a child. It would take adjustments but their life was one constant adjustment. She smiled softly and buried her head in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her tightly. They stood together for what felt like hours.

"Clint, Natasha," the voice that unmistakably belonged to Tony barked over the intercom, "waiting on you two."

"We'll be there in a minute," Natsaha replied firmly, lifting her head away from Clint's body.

"Well you two lovebirds better hurry up or I'm sending Capsicle down there," Tony quipped and the buzz of the intercom disappeared.

The two assassin sighed, untangling themselves from each others arms. She clasped his hand in hers and pulled him out of the bathroom.

"So wait," he said as they walked to the elevator at the far end of their apartment, "does this mean our baby will be some cross between a bird and a spider because that would be awesome."

He dodged an elbow to the stomach and smirked. "Admit that would be cool."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. Unconsciously, her hand fell to her stomach and glided her hand over the smooth fabric of her cotton shirt.

"And if it's a boy," a sad smile twitched on his lips, "Let's name him Phil."

She nodded. He brought her hand up to his lips and he kissed it, looking appreciation and lovingly into her eyes.

As the elevator doors closed, a smile bloomed onto her face. Maybe they could do this. As long as Clint was by her side, she knew she could.


	2. The Meeting

**Due to popular demand, I've decided to continue this story! I'd just like to thank everyone for all the great feedback.**

**Just because she's pregnant,it doesn't mean Natasha is going to be sitting on the sidelines and leave the saving the world to the men. But this may lead to problems in the future...**

**I don't own Marvel, etc**.

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Something was different about them, Tony scrutinized when the two master assassins sauntered into the room, but what?

Light remnants of a grin flickered on the archers face, but not his usually cocky smirk. And the Russian's eyes were brighter than her usual threatening glare- which was a rare occurrence in it of itself. Maybe it was the way they were walking. Normally, they would fall into step together, perfectly in-sync. But Clint was edging ahead ever so slightly. If Tony hadn't known the pair better, mainly the female, he would have thought the action protective.

Natasha and Clint joined the other four Avengers at a wide black conference table. Then the former noticed the perusing stare from her teammate.

"Stark," she demanded.

The billionaire jumped slightly before shaking his head, his current train of thought tabbed and filed away in the back of his mind.

"Hmm? Right, sorry," he apologized, clapping his hands together. With a push of a button, the table illuminated into a glowing blue screen. Tony flicked his finger across the table and suddenly each Avenger had a digital report in front of their seats.

"Marrakech, Morocco," Director Fury, or rather a life size holographic projection of the director, announced when he appeared standing at the head of the table opposite Tony. A three dimensional map of the globe flickered to life in the center of the table with a contrasting red dot appearing over the city in question.

"What about it?" Clint enquired, flipping through the digital report laid out before him.

"We have intel of stolen SHIELD tech- remnants of the scrapped Phase Two project- in the region by a group of arms dealers that calls themselves The Nine Pieces. It's highly critical that this tech doesn't fall into the wrong hands." The map zoomed into the country of Morocco, and then to the city of Marakesh. Three smaller red dots appeared, scattered throughout the enlarged map. "There are three suspected locations of the tech, two dummy locations and one real location. The only problem is that we don't know which is which."

"And why isn't SHIELD taking care of it?" Bruce chimed in, studying the file, "I mean, it seems like a simple enough mission compared to some of the stuff we had to deal with. Why are the Avengers needed?"

"Because-"

"We are being observed," Thor cut in, resting his chin on his hand.

"I think Thor's right," Steve concurred, leaning back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, "To see if we can function as a team."

Tony nodded in agreement. "and to prove New York wasn't a fluke, yeah I know. Which is why we're going to blow this mission out of the water."

Fury inclined his head. "Suit up and meet on the helipad. You leave in twenty minutes." Then the hologram evaporated.

The group nodded in unison and rose to leave. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony watched as the assassins communicated silently as they always did; Clint and Natasha could convey more to each other in an almost unnoticeable twitch of the lips than most people could reveal in a novel. From the slightly knitted eyebrows on both their faces, he could tell they were disagreeing about something. Then the archer glanced down to her stomach for a split second before returning his contact to her bright blue eyes. But why would he look to her- oh my god.

When the two finished their silent argument, Clint drew a harsh breath, signaling his usually defeat, and followed the Russian out of the room.

"JARVIS," Tony called after everyone else had vacated the room, typing away on the table touchscreen, "Get me a full body scan on Agent Romanoff."

"Am I searching for anything in particular sir?" the AI droned.

"Yeah, a baby hawk in the nest."

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**Ta da! It was a short chapter, yes, but I needed something to get the ball rolling! We'll be following Natasha and the rest of the avengers not only through this mission, but all throught the coming months of cravings, hormones and huge, elephanty bellies. **

**Let me know what you thought! Stay tuned!**


	3. The Argument

**Wow! I didn't expect such an enthusiastic reaction! You guys are great and to reward you, here's a new chapter! **

**I don't own Marvel, ect**

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"Don't start with me, Clint," Natasha warned from their bedroom as she zipped her skin tight black uniform.

"I just don't think you should be going out into the field in your condition," he fired back from the bathroom, poking his head out the door, "Especially on a mission like this."

"My condition?" she scoffed, stowing her various knives and guns into their specific compartments, "I'm pregnant, not dying."

"It's dangerous."

"I'll show you dangerous," she mumbled to herself.

A frustrated sigh escaped his lips as he entered the bedroom. He crossed the room slowly. "Natasha..." When she ignored him, he cupped her face in his hands gently. "Natasha look at me."

She reluctantly glanced up at his face and regretted it instantly. "Clint..."

"Look," he interrupted, brushing a stray hair from her face with his thumb, "I know you are more than capable of fighting. But please, just be careful. I don't know what I would do if I lost you. And now with the baby...I wouldn't be able to bear it if you got hurt."

Her brows furrowed as what his words sunk in. No. Attachment is bad, attachment is deadly and it is dangerous. That's what this baby would be: an attachment. And it was already affecting Clint.

"No!" she exclaimed, backing out of his embrace, "Clint Barton you take that back right now!"

"What's gotten into you, Natasha!" Clint demanded, taken aback by her sudden reaction. He crossing his arms over his chest, "I've never seen you act like this!"

Her head was pounding; her blood pressure spiked higher than when the Hulk chased her through the helicarrier, her mind racing faster than when Coulson told her Clint had been compromised.

"I... I don't think I can do this," she admitted quietly, dropping her head. The great Black Widow: able to kill her way through an alien invasion, but left shaking in her boots when baby gets thrown into the mix.

"Do what, Nat?"

"This," she cried frustratedly, throwing her hands in the air, "Us! This baby! We can't 'play house' Clint! What are we going to do! When am I going to have to stop going on missions because my feet are swollen or I'm having morning sickness? What if one of us gets hurt in the field because the baby was up all night! This baby is just a liability!"

"What the hell, Natasha!" Clint exclaimed. "Twenty minutes ago you were fine with the baby, with everything! Don't tell me the hormones are already kicking in-"

Natasha promptly slapped him across the face. How dare he. Here she was having a borderline anxiety attack and he was making jokes. But after a couple of moments, her breathing steadied, her jaw unlocked and her shoulders slumped. "Don't... just don't try to be funny. Not right now."

Clint stayed silent and sat down in the edge of the bed. He reached up other waist and pulled her down alongside him on the bed, kissing her shoulder when she was seated.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, but Clint knew it was for more than the slap.

"Im sorry, too," he whispered into her neck before placing another kiss, "It's okay to be scared, Natasha."

Was she scared? The fact was, the more time she had to think about their predicament, the worse of an idea it was becoming in her head. She was a murderer, an assassin, a spy; not a mother. Just what was she about to sacrifice? What were they about to sacrifice? She rolled her body into Clint's welcoming arms and drew a deep breath.

"When we get home we'll talk about this, okay?" he suggested. She nodded and he smiled softly.

Then the intercom buzzed to life.

"Let's get this show on the road," Tony nagged, "We need our bird of flight to get us rolling outta the nest."

"Alright, alright," Clint called back at the same time Natasha shouted a Russian curse at the Iron Man.

"Fine, you get another minute, but only because your girlfriend scares me," Tony teased before the intercom went dead.

Clint picked himself off the bed. He attached his quiver around his body and snapped his bow open, eliciting a small smile at the corners of his lips. Natasha was already halfway out the door so he jogged up to meet her pace and they ascended to the helipad at the top of Stark Tower.

"Nice of you two to join us," Tony commented from inside his suit as Clint and Natasha joined their fellow teammates on the roof. Thor stood tall beside Iron Man while Captain America and a still human Bruce Banner waited at the mouth of the hover-jet. "Oh by the way, mazel tov."

"Not now, Iron Ass," Natasha quipped as she boarded the plane, exchanging a look with Clint who trailed close behind her.

"What," Tony feigned being offended, "aren't you proud of my obviously immeasurable deductive powers?"

"Yeah, you're a real Sherlock Holmes." Clint sneered, "Can we please just get going?"

Great. Just perfect. If Tony Stark knew about her pregnancy, chances were half of New York did as well. Clint and Natasha had never intended on sharing the news. Sure, there would be rumors but they would never be acknowledged by the couple. But maybe it was for the best. At least now the shocking reveal was out of the way.

"Just watch out, I hear spiders eat their young," Tony continued, the devious smile apparent in his voice.

Exasperated sighs fell from the two master assassins lips but it was the Captain who spoke up.

"Tony," he warned, "leave it."

"Can I babysit the little hawkspider when you guys go away on super secret missions?"

"Tony, Enough!" Captain America commanded. "Focus on the mission."

Natasha shot Cap a grateful look before taking her seat beside Clint. She liked Steve; he was good in a fight and made for a fairly competent leader. If she ever did need an Avenger for daycare purposes, he'd be the first one she'd call.

Wait, no. She needed to clear her head of all of this baby talk. No distractions, no liabilities. Anything but pure focus could prove deadly for not only her, but Clint and her other teammates. With a deep breath, she pushed the thoughts that have been bombarding her brain for the past half hour away and she settled into her mission state of mind.

"Aye, Aye Cap," Iron Man cracked, "Now let's get this show on the road."

"Now your talking," Clint smirked as the turbines of the jet roared to life. The hover-jet passengers strapped in and everyone set up their com-links.

"Hey Zeus," Tony called to the God of Thunder, "Race ya there."

"Tony..." Steve warned.

"A wager?" Thor grinned.

"Thor...

""First one there gets to pick where we go for lunch," Tony finalized.

"Guys..."

"Then may the quickest claim victory," Thor grinned before shooting up into the sky, swinging Mjolnir like a lasso.

"Hey!" Tony called as his faceplate fell into place, "that's cheating!"Then Iron Man blasted off after the Asgardian due east.

Inside the hover-jet, Captain America sighed and shook his head. "Try to keep up with them, Hawkeye."

"I'll do my best, sir," Clint promised, pressing the final buttons and pushing the steering lever forward. The jet lifted off the heli-pad and darted after the other Avengers.

* * *

**Oh Tony. That man just cannot stay out of trouble. Poor Cap.**

**But guess what, it's mission time! I'll try to get the new chapter up as soon as possible. **

**Let me know what you thought! **


	4. The Mission

**Sorry about the wait! I was going to post this chapter last week but as I was doing my final read through, I realized I didn't like where the story was going. So I basically spent the past few days rewriting this chapter about four times. **

**But to reward you for your patience, have an extra long, action-packed chapter! **

**I don't own Marvel, etc. **

The quinjet touched down on Moroccan soil in the center of the bustling Dejmma el Fna square, the busiest market in Marrakech. The sun began to dip tiredly in the sky as Captain America, followed by Bruce Banner, Hawkeye, and the Black Widow, exited the jet. Natives and tourists alike gawked at the sight of the worlds mightiest heroes assembling in the middle of the marketplace, but were wise enough to keep their distance.

"We couldn't have parked somewhere a little more...private?" Captain America asked uncomfortably as more people began to gather around.

"Sorry Cap, but this was where we tracked Thor and Stark," Clint informed him; except Iron Man and the God of Thunder were no where in sight.

"Typical," Rogers exhaled, not overly surprised that a third of his team was missing.

Natasha turned to Clint and shrugged, glancing around for the prince and the playboy. Somewhere nearby, the cry of a young child rang through the square. The Black Widows eyes fell on a young boy, no more than two years old, being lifted off the ground by his mother. The mother cooed and hugged the child close to her chest, bending over to kiss a knee that collided too roughly with the ground. At her touch, the child calmed. Natasha's mouth fell into a hard line and she quickly averted her eyes to the other side of the market.

"Glad you could make it," a shout from behind called, the voice unmistakably belonging to the billionaire.

The group spun around to see Tony, faceplate up and tea in hand, rising from a small table to meet his teammates. Thor appeared behind him, toting tea as well, wearing a smile that revealed he was victorious in their racing adventure across the Atlantic.

At the sight, Captain America sighed sharply and rubbed his forehead. "Can you two please focus?"

"Well now that you're finally here we can get to work!" Tony smirked, tipping the cup back at his lips. Then he passed the empty dish to the Captain, who was growing more irked with every second. "What's the game plan?"

"We're splitting up," Natasha broke in, crossing her arms over her chest, "Captain and Thor will take the east location, Bruce and Clint will take the west, and you and I have the north."

"What, you and Katniss don't want to..." A death glare from the Black Widow silenced Tony from whatever remark he planned on making about their relationship. "Yep, sounds good."

"All three locations are guarded fairly heavily," Natasha continued, "but SHEILD wants us to avoid detection as much as possible until a location can be verified. Sorry Bruce, but the Hulk is a little to conspicuous for this mission."

"Fine by me," Bruce nodded. "The Other Guy will stay on stand-by."

"Once the real location of the tech is revealed, all Avengers fall back to that position if back-up is required," Captain America cut in.

"What are we to do once we locate these weapons of SHIELDs?" Thor inquired.

"You'll have a charge to set up and then once you get clear of the building-"

"Boom," Clint grinned like a child on Christmas morning.

Steve smiled at Hawkeye's enthusiasm. "Is everyone clear with the mission?" Simultaneous nods confirmed their understanding. "Okay Avengers-"

"Dissassemble!" Tony grinned, eliciting a snort from Hawkeye and groans from the rest of his team.

Natasha rolled her eyes, "Really Stark?"

"What?" he smirked, "Okay, fine. Just...go wherever the hell you should be. Come on, momma spider!"

Natasha bit her tongue to avoid sharing some very choice words with the playboy, and started forward north as Iron Man blasted off into the sky. But a hand on her arm belonging to her archer kept her firmly in place. No words were spoken, but they communicated perfectly.

_Be safe, _read the slight furrowing of Clint's eyebrows. Her replying nod was sharp and quick, indicating for him to do the same. He pursed his lips and released her arm.

"Lets go, Doc," he called to Bruce as he started jogging westward, peaking back one last time at Natasha before disappearing into the mass of people.

The rest of the Avengers dispersed and the Black Widow trailed after Stark.

Natasha was walking through a crowded side-street market, the edges of the walkway lined with various vendors selling everything from exotic spices to colorful tapestries, when Tony's voice filled her ears.

"Alright, I'm about three minutes out from where you are by our target. I scanned the building and there is _definitely _something going on in there. I'm picking up _at least_ twenty heat signatures, with a huge cluster of them hanging around the first floor."

"Fantastic," she replied dryly and discretely into her com-link. As she passed a stall selling headscarves, she sneakily swiped a black scarf from the table without drawing the attention of the stand's keeper. "Have you contacted Rogers?" she asked as she turned the corner and wrapped the scarf in its traditional fashion around her fiery hair.

"On it," he confirmed. A minute later his voice returned, "So how do you want to tackle this?"

"You stay up top, watch the men inside, and I'll infiltrate," she devised, "Could you walk me through the building?"

"Like a day at the park," she could hear the smile in his voice.

"Good," she replied as she veered left down a deserted alley and then right.

At the sound of footsteps, the Black Widow unholstered her pistol and paused, her back pressed up against the stony exterior of a building as two men dressed in green from head to toe, guns in tote, marched past the mouth of the alley. From her position, she watched as the men proceeded another block before stopping at a wearhouse-like stone building, punching a code into a keypad, and disappearing inside.

"I've got a visual," she whispered into the com as she prepared to move in.

"You're all clear," Tony confirmed, "Nice headscarf, by the way. But if you wanted to blend in, I think a belly dancer would have been a more appropriate disguise."

Natasha rolled her eyes and jogged up to the building, surveying the area for potential threats. "We're here," Natasha spoke subtly, informing the rest of her team of their whereabouts.

"Copy that," Captain America's voice buzzed over the com.

She reached the doorway and waited for Stark to feed her the code.

"Six-four-six-three," he told her and she pressed the appropriate keys. _Beep, beep, beep, beep. _

A green light blinked over the doorknob signaling her successful entrance and she slipped inside.

"There should be a stairwell to your left."

She turned as directed and confirmed.

"Okay," Tony said, "take that to the second floor- you'll get a better view up there. But be careful, you've got men guarding at the top; three heat signatures."

Cautiously, Natasha began climbing the flight of stairs towards her objective. That's when she started seeing doubles. Her head began to _pound- _like Thor was using it for hammering practice. Her stomach twisted into nauseating knots and the staircase began to swirl and wind in her vision. Then sudden bout of dizziness took its toll, sending her to the ground when her foot caught on a step.

"Agh," she gasped quietly to herself as she collapsed against the rough wall. Blinking roughly, she tried to straighten up, but her body continued protest as the room began spin like a terrifying carnival ride.

_Oh god, not now. _Not in the middle of a mission. Not while she was trapped in the middle of hostel territory with armed guards standing thirty feet from her slumped over figure. She reached a hand up to her forehead and brought close to her eyes for examination. Blood stained her fingertips, dripping wet from the gash where here head collided with the stone stairs. _God-fucking-dammit._

"Were coming up on our target," she listened when Rogers disclosed over the com as she struggled to regain control of her body, "What's your status, Hawkeye?"

"We've made it inside our wearhouse," Clint checked in, "No sign of the tech yet but we'll keep looking."

Clint. Just hearing his voice intensified her will to conquer this- whatever the hell was happening to her body. She wanted him _here, _by her side, telling her to fight this ridiculous internal battle because he _knew_ she was stronger than this. But this was also _exactly _why he didn't want her in the field in her _condition_. She sucked in a hard breath as her stomach tightened.

"Good to know," Steve replied, "Once you can verify that location is empty, report back to the quinjet. Natasha and Tony, update?"

"I'm picking up a lot of heat signatures, Cap," Iron Man reported when the Black Widow remained silent.

"Keep me posted," he requested.

"Will do," Iron Man replied. Then he switched his com back to local, "You alright, Romanoff?"

"Peachy," she whispered through her teeth after an agonizing moment. The room was stabilizing and her head was lightening, but her gut kept up its relentless rebellion.

"Natasha..." The concern was obvious in his voice.

"I...I think I'm going to be sick," she breathed, squeezing her eyes shut and balling a fist over her frantic stomach.

"Do you want me to come in ther-"

"No!" she whispered fiercely, "It's just morning sickness. It'll pass."

"_How _can you have morning sickness at six in the afternoon!" Tony cried, baffled.

"Thats just what it's called, Stark," she grunted back, "not an actual timetable."

"Well you can't afford it!" Tony reminded her, "Tell that little hawkling of yours that you're in the middle of a very delicate- and deadly- search and destroy mission."

Natasha winced at the 'hawkling' comment. But as much as she hated to admit it, Tony was right; she couldn't let the _baby_ endanger the mission. Through gritted teeth, the Black Widow worked to push the pain to the back of her mind like she has had to do on countless other occasions. With a deep breath, she rose to her feet and steadied, mentally chastising herself for reacting so weakly before.

"Okay, I'm good," she breathed.

"Thank god," Tony breathed, an edge of relief to his voice, "Now take care of those guys up there. Whatever you do, do it quietly because you've got four others patrolling just outside."

"Copy," she replied as she inched up the remaining stairs. Natasha peaked her head out from behind the wall to find the three green-clad guards standing at attention just outside the stairwell.

From around her wrist, she plucked one of her Widow Bites and slid it into the hallway. In seconds, the three men were sprawled out on the floor, unconscious and unaware of her presence. She slipped past them and through the door. On the other side, the Black Widow ducked behind a pillar as two more guards strolled past her.

This level was almost entirely open to the football field sized ground floor below; a thin metal banister lined the rectangular walkway that made up the second floor. That meant shooting the men was out of the question if she wanted to keep a low profile. Natasha craned her neck to peer over the railing down to the main floor of the wearhouse. In the center of the room were wooden crates, piled high like an Egyptian pyramid. She also counted at least ten armed men standing like a fence around the impressive structure of boxes.

"There's definitely something here," she whispered to Stark.

"Can you get a closer look?" he asked hopefully.

"Not without blowing my cover," she said decisively. Then she glanced up at the industrial sized windows lining one of the walls of the building and an idea hit her. "Hey Stark, drop three smoke grenades in through the south windows."

"Erm, why?"

"I just need to confirm the tech is SHIELDs," she told him, "The smoke would cloak me as I jumped down there past the guards. Then we can blow this place to hell."

"On it," he replied and she heard the whoosh of his stabilizers.

Natasha slid a pair of glasses from a compartment in her suit and wrapped the around her eyes. "Count it down for me."

"Incoming in three, two, one."

At that exact moment, a glass window shattered as three canisters jettisoned through it. A thick grey gas exploded furiously through the open ends of the canisters and soon covered the entire wearhouse in a smoky fog. Frantic shouts in Moroccan signaled now was the time to act.

Natasha sprinted from behind the pillar and hurtled herself over the banister, rolling on her shoulder as she landed the fifteen foot drop gracefully before jumping to her feet. Thanks to the special technology in the glasses SHIELD supplied or her, she was able to see perfectly in an otherwise zero visibility situation. She zipped past guards like a ghost of the night, dancing around them until she finally fell upon the pyramid of crates. The SHIELD agent forced the first box she laid her hands on open and checked the contents. Remnants of Phase Two, including a number of weapons and masks, sat inside.

The smoke was beginning to clear as the Nine Pieces' agents cranked the vents to maximum power. Satisfied with her findings, Natasha darted away from the center of the wearhouse to the side of the room, taking cover behind a wall of barrels as visibility returned.

"It's all here, Stark," Natasha confirmed as she caught her breath, stowing her glasses back in their designated compartment.

"وكان شخص ما هنا. العثور عليها، وأحضر لي منهم بالنسبة لي" A high ranking officer commanded his men. Natasha was able to translate: "_Someone was here! Find them, bring me them to me!"_

_"_Okay I'll set the charge up. Get _out_ of there!" Tony ordered.

Natasha waited for an opening before sprinting out from her cover and towards the entrance.

"Rogers," she called into her com, "we've got confirmation-"

"_Hey!" _she heard a cry from behind her in Moroccan, "_You shouldn't be here! Stop!"_

The Black Widow glanced over her shoulder to see two muscular guards close on her tail. She ducked into the stairwell and pressed her back to the wall. Then she greeted the first guard that rushed past her with a swift knee to the chest. When he fell, the second guard stumbled over him and Natasha smashed her pistol against his head, rendering him unconscious.

After a deep breath, Natasha emerged out of the stairwell and grabbed the door. But her tuned senses picked up movement from her six. She dropped to her knees just as the butt of an AK47 slammed into the door. Natasha quickly delivered a sweeping kick, knocking her attacker's feet from under him. She proceeded to shoot three guards that entered the hallway.

"What happened to keeping a low profile?" Stark quipped when her heard the gunfire.

"Fuck it," she shouted as she fired two more shots, "We're past search, on to destroy."

"'Atta girl! And Steve wants an update," he told her.

"Tech found, preparing to to finish the job," Natasha fed him as she bolted out of the wearhouse, "Okay Stark I'm cle-"

A direct blow to her calf sent her tumbling to the ground, her gun flying out of reach. The guard with the AK47 stood over her, pointing the barrel between her eyes. She growled, knocking the gun away, and the bullet meant for her embedded itself in the dirt. Before the guard could react, her heels plowed into his chest, sending him flying onto his back.

"Romanoff!" Stark called, "Are you out of the building?"

Another, stronger looking guard exited the building, making a beeline for the Black Widow. She dogged his first attack as she tore the headscarf from her hair.

"Yes!" she managed to grunt a reply to Tony.

A second wide punch grazed her left arm as Natasha flipped over the man. As she landed, she pulled the scarf around the guard's throat and used his wight to wrench him to the ground.

But the flip was a bad, truly terrible idea. Her vision began to swirl and she staggered a step back. She barley had time evade the swooping knife from the first guard that came barreling towards her neck. Natasha thought she aimed her elbow to connect with his jaw, but the blow ended up landing below his shoulder.

_Fuck! _She'd promised Clint that she would be careful. But she couldn't even land a hit properly!

The knife made a second pass, this time scraping along her cheek. She could feel the tug as the blade sliced into her skin and warm blood streaked down her face.

With a newfound rage, Natasha grabbed the man's head tightly in her grasp, jerking it roughly to the side. His limp body collapsed onto the ground.

But she was dizzy, her reflexes were delayed. Natasha didn't realize she was in immediate danger until the chokehold around her neck jerked her upward and the knife pierced her lower back. The blade dug into her, sending anguished cries from every nerve, lighting the pain center of her brain up like a Christmas tree.

She wanted to scream as the knife was yanked from the cavern it created in her body, but she couldn't make a sound; her airways were blocked so that not even a squeak could pass her lips.

The guard laughed a maniacal, torturous laugh. He kept laughing as Natasha, devoid of oxygen and leaking blood like a faucet, grew weaker in his grasp. His arm tightened more and more, and the tighter he strangled her, the more he laughed. But then it stopped- the laughing, the strangulation- and the pressure on Natasha's neck released. Unable to support her body, Natasha slumped onto the ground. Beside her, the guard laid dead, an arrow protruding from his neck.

And the last thing she remembered before the black curtain of unconsciousness was draped over her, was Clint's hand reaching for hers.

* * *

**And that wraps up Natasha's last mission! **

**Since I already have the next chapter nearly finished, it should be up within the next day or two. They won't be as exciting but expect a hell of a lot of fluff from here on out. **

**Let me know what you though!**

**Authors note: I think the Arab translation was a little rough. If someone who knows the language wants to shoot me a message, I'd be glad to change it! **


	5. The Recovery

**Since I won't be around for the next few days, I decided it would be cruel to make you guys wait for the next chapter! Especially after that cliffhanger!**

**And as I said before, be prepared for the ridiculous amount of fluff coming in the foreseeable future.**

**I don't own Marvel, etc.**

* * *

"YOU were supposed to be there to watch her back!" Natasha heard a familiar voice growl as her eyes flittered open.

She was in a hospital room- or rather, a SHIELD recovery room. Five different tubes and wires extended from her arm, connected to various monitors and IVs. Just outside of her room, through the thin papery curtain covering her window, she could make out three figures; one stood apart from the other two, jabbing a pointed finger. She squeezed her eyes closed again, probing her mind, trying to connect the events that lead her to be pay a visit to the white walled, sterile smelling wing of the helicarrier.

"I was finishing the mission!" A voice that could belong to none other than Tony Stark shouted back. "I needed to set the charge and-"

"She could have _died_!" Clint barked back.

"Don't you think I know that!"

"I think you need reminding!"

"Guys!" she heard Steve cut in to defuse the situation, "Look, the doctor said she'll be fine and the baby wasn't hurt so-"

Her breath caught in her throat. The baby! Her hands instantly dropped down to her stomach.

"-everything is going to be okay. It's not anybody's fault."

She suddenly remembered everything: the dizziness, the first guard with the knife, the second guard, the agonizing pain...

But none of that seemed to matter anymore. She could have lost the baby.

Clint's baby.

Her baby.

Just like that.

A blonde nurse in navy blue scrubs burst into the room, out of breath as she swung the thin metal door open wide. "Is everything alright, Agent Romanoff?"

It was only then that Natasha heard the frantic beeping of the heart monitor she was attached to. She nodded quickly, working to steady her breathing to a much slower pace. The nurse gave her a look before double checking the connections.

"You're very lucky," the nurse told her with a hospitable smile.

Natasha furrowed her eyebrows and asked if she could have visitors. Her voice was scratchy and hoarse and she could feel the bruises enveloping her neck as she spoke.

"Director Fury would like to see you first," the nurse informed her before inclining her head and retreating from the room.

Natasha groaned quietly to herself when she was alone again. There are only two reasons the Director would visit her in recovery: either he needed to conduct a special debriefing or he was going to put her on maternity. And at the moment, the latter seemed like the more obvious option. _Fuck. _It was going to happen eventually and definitely in the near future, but Natasha had just hoped to squeeze in a couple more missions.

The door handle shook and Natasha braced herself. But she wasn't expecting who walked through the door.

"Agent Barton, you can't go in there!" she heard a nurse cry as Clint stormed into her room.

"Like hell I can't!" he shouted back over his shoulder, ignoring the continued protests from the staff. He rolled a chair beside her bed and plopped down in it, leaning over to kiss her forehead, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," she whispered, the slightest smile forming on her lips.

Clint let out a laugh and sunk into the chair, "You scared the shit out of me, you know."

"Sorry," she whispered again in the raspy tone that was all she could manage.

He smiled and pulled her hand to his lips. They stayed like that in silence until Director Fury walked in.

"Relax Agent, "he ordered when Clint stood to leave, "I was going to call you in anyway since I guess this involves the both of you."

"Sir," Clint nodded, returning to his seat.

"Agent Romanoff," the Director began, "I've been informed of some news pertaining your health. Would you like to confirm or deny these claims?"

"Confirm, sir," she replied in as smooth voice as possible.

Fury sighed loudly before speaking again. "You know our policy regarding pregnancy, Agent." Natasha nodded. "After your debriefing on the successful mission of Operation: Sandy Palm, you will be put on maternity leave. You will be authorized to return two months after giving birth, but _only _if the board sees fit. Is that understood, Miss Romanoff?"

"Crystal, sir,"

"Very well," Fury nodded, turning to leave, "You will be discharged tomorrow at oh-nine hundred hours, followed by your debriefing. And Agent Barton," he turned to the archer, "In Agent Romanoff's absence, you will be given the cases that would normally fall to her."

Clint's eyes shot open, "I'm not going to have to seduce any rich guys, am I?"

But the Director only smiled as he closed the door behind him.

* * *

Clint found Tony the next day reclined on a couch in the Recovery waiting lounge after his debriefing, typing feverishly on his cellphone.

"Hey Stark," he called as he sauntered over to the billionaire. But when Tony didn't look up, Clint called for him again, "_Hey_, Iron Ass!"

Tony glanced over his shoulder to see Barton lean his elbows against the couch.

"Look," Clint started, "I just wanted to say I'm sorry for how I reacted earlier. I was just so... so..."

A pat on his shoulder told him that no hard feelings were harbored. Tony stowed his gadget and walked over to stand beside the archer.

"Apology accepted, Merida," Tony grinned. Then he clapped his hands together triumphantly. "That's what you should call her!"

"Call who?" the archer asked confusedly.

"Your kid!" Tony exclaimed excitedly, "With Romanoff's hair and your... bow-ness, all she'll be missing is the thick Scottish accent. It's perfect!"

"I'll keep that in mind," Clint chuckled.

From where they were standing, they could see into the recovery room lobby as Natasha being rolled out by a blonde nurse. The nurse then handed the Black Widow a book: What to Expect When You're Expecting.

"I don't envy you buddy," Tony said suddenly, resting a hand on Hawkeye's shoulder as they watched Natasha flip through the pages, "Get ready for nine months of crying and cravings. And what's worse is that she probably knows at least fifteen ways to kill you with that pregnancy book if she gets pissed enough." He patted his shoulder again before turning to leave. "Have fun. Oh and if Pepper starts talking about kids after this, I'm coming after you."

Clint open his mouth to call something back to him but at that moment Natasha made a loud and terrifying demand about a gallon of Häagen Dazs needing to be in front of her in five minutes or she'll break somebody's neck. The three SHIELD agents that were in the room paused for a moment, looking between themselves, before quickly scattering in search of what the pregnant Widow requested.

Clint bit his lip. "Hey Iron Ass," he pivoted on his heels and trailed after Tony, "wait up!"

* * *

Arm hanging off the side of the couch, Natasha lay on her side, her feet against the back of the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels on her unnecessarily large HDTV in her Stark Tower apartment. She'd been in that position for hours, afraid to move her back even slightly. Pregnancy meant no strong pain medications, and the handful of aspirin she popped an hour ago just wasn't cutting it.

Around this time after a trip to the recovery room, she'd usually have a bottle of vodka at her side accompanied by a six pack or two. But pregnancy also meant no alcohol. She sighed heavily as she continued to zip through the over two thousand channels at her disposal.

Eventually, she settled on Raiders of the Lost Ark, which was still rolling through the opening credits. Content, she released the remote onto the ground below her hand and watched as Indiana Jones tried to outsmart the ancient Peruvian booby-traps.

The front door squeaked open just as Indy and Marion got into a street tussle in the middle of Cairo. Natasha leaned over to pause the movie before craning her neck over the arm of the couch to see Clint saunter into the room.

"Oooh, Raiders?" he hummed in approval as he greeted her with a kiss.

"Mmhm," she replied, "Come watch with me."

"I would...but I have nowhere to sit; you're taking up the whole couch," he smirked, walking over to the refrigerator to grab a beer.

"I can't move," she grumbled into the couch cushion.

Clint stifled a laugh and stopped in front of her. "Here, just lift your head up." She did as he requested, ignoring the stabbing pain in her back as she propped herself up on her elbow. He then slid into the opening she created. "Okay, you're good."

Natasha slowly brought her head down to rest on his leg before reaching down to grab the remote. They watched in silence, and Clint alternated between running his hand over her hair and sliding his thumb gently over the newly forming scar across her cheek.

Before the Ark was packed in the giant government warehouse, Clint heard light snores erupt from the bruised and beautiful figure beside him. He couldn't bring himself to risk waking her so he stayed as he was, sacrificing the comfort of his bed to watching Temple of Doom until he too fell asleep.

And when Natasha awoke the next morning as the sun glittered to life in the sky, he was still in the same position, only with his head reclined against the back of the couch and his jaw slacked open. A smile twitched at her lips as she leaned up to place a kiss on his cheek. As he stirred awake, she rested her head on his shoulder and switched on Blade Runner. He smiled and kissed the top of her head before stretching his arms and settling in for another movie.

* * *

**Who doesn't love Harrison Ford? Happy belated birthday to him! **

**Anyway... get ready for growing bellies and fluffy interactions from all of the Avengers. It's like they're one big happy family! And now we get to follow not only Natasha and Clint, but the rest of the team too on the wild roller coaster that is pregnancy. **

**Let me know what you thought! **


	6. The 9th Week

**Whoops! Sorry for the wait guys! I didn't realize it had been so long since I updated. Here's a short, fluffy chapter I wrote at 3am to hold you over. **

**I don't own Marvel, etc. **

* * *

Natasha placed her laptop on the kitchen counter as she searched the cabinets for a pan. As the video call connected, she began chopping an assortment of vegetables. CALL FAILED popped up on the screen.

She growled to herself, "Dammit Clint."

After a minute, she clicked the retry button and padded over to the refrigerator. This time, he picked up on the second ring.

"Natasha?" he called when he was grated with an empty screen.

"I'm over here," she cried from off screen, returning in front of the camera with various ingredients and dumping them on the counter.

"Sorry I didn't pick up. I just got back from Ath- wait, are you… cooking?" He didn't try to hide the amused smile twitching at his lips.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him, "Well with you gone all the time, how do you expect me to feed myself?"

"You usually just order takeout," he reminded her.

Her mouth tugged at the corners as she swirled olive oil into the pan.

"I'm bored," she admitted after a beat.

Clint chuckled and shook his head, "Maybe it's because you've been cooped up in Stark Tower for a week and a half."

"I've been cooped up- alone- in Stark Tower for a week and a half," she corrected, sliding the vegetables from the cutting board and into the sizzling pan, "How was Greece?"

"Complicated," he snorted, rubbing his forehead.

She furrowed her eyebrows and looked up from her cooking. That's when she noticed the bruise on his jaw and the gash on his temple. "What happened?"

"A bad storm," he rolled his eyes at the memory, "Kavos never went to point because the roads were flooded, so I had to improvise."

"And by improvise, you mean barging into his safehouse without backup to finish the job."

"Yeah, basically," he chuckled once as he brought a bottle of aspirin to his lips, swallowing a number of the red pills that landed in his mouth, "Mmm, but now there are seven less Greek mobsters running around. You're welcome."

Natasha barked a laugh as she ground pepper over the frying zucchini and squash, "I'll be able to sleep soundly tonight."

He smiled crookedly, the way only she can wrangle out of him. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," she shrugged, "The morning sickness has let up."

"Good-" a knock at his door cut his sentence short.

_"Barton, you're wanted at the bridge,_" Natasha heard the muffled voice on the other side of his door call.

Clint sighed and turned back towards the screen. "Looks like I have work to do."

"Go," she nudged her head towards the door, "We'll talk when you get back."

He nodded. "I'll try to come home soon," he promised, giving her an apologetic look.

She smiled softly, "Be safe."

"I will," he smiled. And then the screen went black.

Natasha sighed to herself and shut her laptop. She glanced down at her dinner searing on the stove. Any other time in her life, she would have welcomed the solitude. But over the past few weeks, with Clint working assignment after assignment and the whole pregnancy situation, she had been feeling, for the first time in her life, lonely.

After a moment of deliberation, she reached over to her phone and pressed third speed dial.

"Hi Pepper, It's Natasha," she greeted when the other side picked up, "I was wondering if you would like to join me for dinner?"

* * *

**I've had the idea for a video call between Clint and Nat in my head for a while now and I finally got it down on paper. Sorry again for this chapter being so short. I have the next chapter in the works though and it _should_ be up in the next couple of days. **

**The chapters titles are going to be to be following the weeks of her pregnancy now, so look out for that. **

**Let me know what you thought**


	7. The 10th Week

**Okay,** **so this chapter took a little longer than I expected and then my friend surprised me with a trip and the house we were at had no wifi. So even though I had finish****ed this a few days ago, I didn't have any way to upload it. But enough about me, get to your nice, long chapter. **

**And also, this chapter was partially based on an early Avengers: Earths Mightiest Heroes episode- which is a show you should watch if you don't already! (the first season is on Netflix!) **

**I don't own Marvel, etc.**

* * *

Another sleepless night. Clint rolled out of his bunk and dragged his feet towards the bathroom. He was used to operating on almost no sleep, but this had been going on for weeks. In fact, he could trace the last night he slept through to three weeks ago- the last time he saw Natasha.

With her being out of commission, his workload had doubled, which meant he had to spend most of his days on the heli-carrier and the rest of them in the field. Sure, they had their nightly calls. But it couldn't compare to being to actually being in her presence, holding her in his arms, running his fingers through her fiery hair, feeling her warm breath tickle his neck...

The eyes staring back at him in the mirror were exhausted, and the dark circles under his eyes were expanding. He groaned to himself and splashed his face with the icy tap falling from the faucet. It made absolutely no difference. Sighing, he yanked a towel off its hook and tiredly dragged it down his face.

Clint rummaged around his half vacant closet for suitable clothing before he ventured out into the corridors of the heli-carrier. He made a beeline for the communal kitchen as did every morning. In their usual spots, he found Stark, Rogers, Banner.

"Mornin' Hawk," Tony mumbled a greeting as he bite into a pink sprinkle-covered donut.

"Stark," Clint nodded towards the billionaire lounging at the table, and then to the rest of his teammates. He was surprised to see The God of Thunder there, leaning against the counter and staring intently at the toaster; Thor was scheduled to be on Asgard for the the entire week- something to do with his damned brother and some complications with the hearing. But it seemed like the issues had been resolved, or so he hoped.

"How does Ms. Romanoff fair?" Thor asked as he retrieved his burnt poptarts.

A faint smile tugged at the archer's lips, remembering the conversation they had earlier in the week, "She's bored." He grabbed a mug from beside the sink- he almost reached for a second out of habit- and poured himself some coffee.

Thor bellowed a laugh, "And the child? It is doing well?"

"Yep," he popped the 'p' and took a sip of the dark roast steaming in his cup, "no complications."

The God of Thunder grinned and patted the archer's shoulder as Bruce offered a kind smile, "We're glad to hear it."

"Thanks Doc," he said with a yawn, residing in a chair Tony had kicked out for him.

"You look weary, Legolas," Stark observed aloud as he finished off his pastry, "Trouble in paradise?"

Clint snorted, "For there to be trouble, I'd have to be home every once in a while."

"Fury's just pissy that you benched his best player," Tony informed him, fighting a smile.

"I doubt the Director is really that petty," Steve interjected, glancing over the edge of the report he was reading.

"You'd be surprised," he snickered.

The intercom hissed. "I resent that, Stark," Director Fury droned, filling the kitchen with the sound of his annoyed voice.

Tony winced sheepishly, like a child being caught drawing on the walls.

"I didn't think he would be listening," he admitted when he thought he was safe.

"I am always listening," Fury shot back and Tony winced again.

"I guess good hearing makes up for the whole 'one eye' thing, eh," Tony whispered aside to Bruce, who's lip twitched upwards.

"It does," the Director confirmed. At that, Tony threw his hands up and rolled his eyes, making a mental note to hack back into the SHIELD interface later. He would not stand for this invasion of his- er, his teams- privacy!

"Anyway..." Clint continued after a silent minute, "I've had to take on all of Nat's assignments while she's out and I'm exhausted."

"Anything we could help with?" Steve offered.

"Nah," he sighed, scratching at his chin, "They're in-'n-out jobs." -he ignored the snort he heard beside him- "I think I'm being shipped to South Africa today to take out some war lord."

"Well," Bruce frowned, staring intently at the television mounted on the wall, "I think you might get to go home early." He turned the volume on high so the rest of his team could hear the breaking news.

_"-And it appears that a terrorist group known as Hydra is currently attacking the UN building in New York City," the news anchor reported in a monotonous voice, "As far we know, the President of the United States and various other leaders of the free world, including the British and Russain Prime Ministers, are being held hostage. We go now to Maggie Kage in New York-"_

Bruce muted the television and turned to his teammates.

"Hydra..." Steve growled to himself as the God of Thunder rose to his feet,"It sounds as though we are needed."

"I agree, big guy," Tony slapped his hands down on the white metallic table and used his arms as leverage to stand up.

The intercom buzzed again and Director Fury's voice once again demanded their attention. "Avengers Assemble on the flight deck in five minutes."

"Alright Avengers," Steve declared somberly, "suit up."

"Right behind you, Captain," Tony shifted into mission mode, a serious side to the billionaire that rarely made an appearance outside of world-jeopardizing situations.

Clint let out a long sigh and reluctantly followed his teammates out of the kitchen. A grueling, world saving mission was the last thing he needed. But hey, maybe he could get some sleep after this.

* * *

It was all over the news. The Avengers Save the World Again! was splashed on every headline, and making every top story.

When the news first broke that the UN was under attack just blocks from her home, The Black Widow had instinctively jumped to her feet. It wasn't until she yanked her closet doors open to suit up that she remembered she was out of the game. After Marrakech and countless talks in the middle of the night with Clint, Natasha had come to terms with the pregnancy. She was even mildly excited about the whole ordeal. But there were times when she cursed the child growing inside of her for making her a liability instead of an asset. The hardest part for the Black Widow was sitting on the sidelines.

A knock at the door pulled her out of the short-lived pity party that followed, and she found Pepper Potts on the other side.

"I just got off the phone with Tony. He said they were on their way on the UN! All of them- Thor, Bruce, Steve, and Clint. And... oh god- can I come in," she blabbered franticly as she rushed past the Black Widow to the television.

"Sure... make yourself at home," Natasha shuffled behind her to the living room. "Do you want something to drink?" she asked as she veered into the kitchen. At Pepper's request, she returned to the living room with two cups of calming tea- one for herself and one for her guest- and set them both on the table.

The two women were glued to their seats, knowing their boys would be making an appearance soon. What an odd feeling it was, Natasha thought, to be on this side of the action. Then the newscaster announced the Avengers had landed at the scene. Natasha hadn't been able to peal her eyes away the screen.

Now she understood why Pepper was always such a nervous wreck; everything seemed much worse when you're a mere spectator. In the middle of a fight, you only know one thing: that you need to survive, that your team needed to survive. But this... this was so much worse; the commentary, the visual of the enemy, the feeling of helplessness knowing there was nothing you could do. Natasha was on the edge of her seat, hands clawing at the cushion of the couch.

The camera would linger on Iron Man zooming around or the Hulk smashing his way through a Hydra robot the size of a house, the robot using it metal arms not only to crash its way though the city, but to also swat the giant green rage monster into the concrete. But every so often, the camera would pan down to the ground, where Hawkeye, Thor, and Captain America fought the hundreds of drones in close combat. The sight of Clint made her freeze instantly. She knew- better than most- that he was more than capable of handling himself. In fact, if she were there, standing next to him outside the UN building, shooting and fighting by his side, she wouldn't even need to think about him. But she wasn't; she was sitting in their apartment, watching, waiting for something to go wrong.

Arrows and lighting and phaser blasts continuously zipped all over the place, making it nearly impossible to see what was going on. After another minute- it felt more like an hour- the camera left the Hulk again and followed the action back on the ground. Hawkeye was firing arrow after arrow in an effortless rhythm he had perfected over the years. If you blinked, you would miss it; he snapped his arm behind him to the quiver to grab an arrow, pulled it into the bow, and released it in one sharp, smooth motion. And he did this continuously, without fault, only pausing to retrieve an arrow or two whenever possible.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Natasha's lips. She forgot sometimes just how spectacular he really was. But from her new viewpoint, she was reminded just what attracted her to Clint in the first place; not his charm or his smile that all the other girls would fall for, but his skill, his passion for fighting, and that he never missed a shot. Ever.

But suddenly, he buckled over- a blast ricocheted off of the Captain's shield and struck Clint's stomach. Natasha jumped to her feet, wide eyed and completely speechless. Pepper covered her mouth in shock. They waited for him to stand back up. And waited. And waited. They watched as Thor called out to Captain America, and and the former rushed to the fallen archer. The newscaster speculated if the wound would prove fatal for Hawkeye and Natasha wanted to break that balding asshole's neck.

"He's going to be okay, Natasha," Pepper whispered soothingly, resting her hands on the Russian's shoulders, "He's going to be okay."

The fighting continued relentlessly but the other Avengers began to fall back on Hawkeye's position, creating a protective circle around him as Thor assessed his injures.

"I should be there," Natasha's growled. Pepper took the Black Widow's hand and squeezed it tightly between her own. She hated this, absolutely hated this. Even if he didn't make it, at least she should be there with him, telling him he couldn't leave her, threatening to kick his hawk ass if he died on her because she wasn't raising this baby alone! She shouldn't be looking on helplessly from the comfort of her living room, waiting for the news to pronounce him dead. Just the thought had her teeth grinding.

Then Thor shouted to his teammates that his teammate would live. The camera followed the Asgardian as he tucked the archer under his arm and used Mjolnir to fly them to the roof of the UN. Natasha sucked in a relieved gasp of breath and nearly collapsed onto the couch. Pepper drew her attention to the wetness around her eyes and The Black Widow quickly blotted the saltwater away. She tried to pin the blame for the emotional display on hormones, but not even she was fully convinced.

The fighting lasted for another fifteen minutes before Iron Man was able to override the robot's control system and fry its circuits internally. The massive octopus-like robot toppled like a tree in the forest onto the city street below, and the remaining drones retreated to an awaiting ship. Before the newscaster could announce the Avengers had saved the world again, the five men had disappeared from the scene.

"Where did they-" Then Pepper's phone began to go off to the guitar intro of Iron Man- Tony had customized his ringtone to the Black Sabbath song that shared the name of his superhero alter ego on not only her's, but on all the avenger's phones as well. Usually, his little antic would leave Pepper rolling her eyes in the middle of a business meeting. But on days like today, that familiar riff meant she could breath easy again.

She gave Natasha's hand one last squeeze before excusing herself from the apartment."Tony!" Pepper breathlessly replied into the receiver as she passed through the doorway, "are you alright? Where-"

When the door clicked shut, Natasha let out a sigh. She collected the untouched and cooled mugs from the table and placed them beside the sink. Leaning her elbows on the counter, she massaged her temples, willing herself to relax after the overly stressful morning. But the image of Clint collapsing to the ground kept replaying in her mind. He goes on missions without her all the time- hell, he had been gone for the past three weeks on a handful of deadly assignments and saw that he had returned on many occasions bruised and battered. So why had she become suddenly so distraught over this one?

A thud on the balcony jostled the Black Widow from of her thoughts. As she had been preprogrammed to do since childhood, Natasha quickly sprang into action, instantly reaching under the cabinet and whipping around to point her pistol at whatever had successfully landed outside of her apartment. But instead of an intruder, she found Clint staggering into the apartment through the sliding glass door, buckled over, gripping his bow in one hand and his injured side with the other.

"Hey babe," he grunted with a small smile, ignoring the weapon pointed at his head.

"Jesus, Clint," she stowed the gun in her jeans and rushed over to the nearly toppled over archer. As she reached him, Clint dropped his bow to tightly embrace her. He pressed his lips to her hair as her nose nestled into the crook of his neck.

Natasha didn't have to ask why he was here, stumbling into their apartment instead of on his way to the recovery room- which, based on his current state, should have been his number one priority. He needed to see her as much as she needed to see him, though neither of them would ever admit it. In their past, three weeks away from each other was nothing- a minor blip compaired to the months on end they would spend undercover, completely unable to communicate.

"You scared the shit out of me," she mumbled into his collarbone.

He chuckled once, "Sorry," and placed another kiss on her wavy red locks. Just being able to smell her favorite fruity shampoo again made the delay in getting the painkillers and stitches he desperately needed worth it.

She buried into the durable fabric, hesitating before she spoke again. "I thought I'd los-"

She felt Clint's strong hands lift her face up until it was mere centimeters from his own. He was frowning, but his eyes we're determined, glowing with intensity. "Remember what I promised you in Valencia, Nat: I'm never going to leave you. And I'm not going to break that promise because of a few Hydra phasers, understand?"

Natasha squeezed her eyes shut and nodded, remembering the vow he made to her that uncharacteristically cool summer night in Spain. The archer entwined his fingers through her hair and closed the distance between their lips, urgently trying to make up for the three weeks they had spent apart. A low moan escaped from he Black Widow as her arms snaked up to Hawkeye's head, giving her more leverage to keep his mouth firmly in place. She could feel a smile tugging at his lips. The pain, for a beautiful moment, receded to the back of his mind.

But it was short lived. A new, sharper pain emerged, causing Clint to break the blissful kiss and crumple to his side. It was times like this that he wished he had some superhuman healing abilities like half of his teammates, or at least a suit that could take a hit. Before he fell over, Natasha ducked under his arm and straightened him out.

"Alright, we're getting you to SHIELD," she told him in a tone that he knew not to argue with, "And I'm going to talk to Fury."

"Why?" he grunted a question at her latter statement as she helped him limp to the elevator.

"You need a vacation."

* * *

**I figure my word means nothing to you by this point so I'm just going to vaugly say the next chapter should be up soon. **

**Let me know what you thought!**

**And I just wanted to take some time again to thank everyone who favorited or followed or reviewed or even just read this story. Your support means everything to me and it is greatly appreciated.**


	8. The 14th Week

**New chapter _finally. _Sorry for the wait folks. For some reason, this chapter was tricky. I wrote and edited and rewrote and deleted and rewrote again about three times. **

**Not much really happens in here. It's just fluff. God I love fluff. And seeing as you had a pretty action-y, stressfilled chapter last time around, I figured our Avengers could use some down time. **

**I don't own Marvel, etc.**

**Oh! And before I forget, this story reached 15000 views! That is a HUGE number for me and I just want to say thank you thank you thank you.**

**Okay, that is all.**

* * *

With her back against the arm of the couch and her legs propped up on the seat cushion, Natasha flipped through her pregnancy book with boredom, quirking an eyebrow every now and again as she read over the text.

"They want me to _talk_ to the baby?"

She shook her head and deposited the book on the coffee table with a plop. With a sigh she leaned her head back, pushing her fingers through her now shoulder length fiery curls.

"Did you say something, Nat?" Clint asked as he strolled out of the bedroom, suited up with his bow in hand.

After the UN incident, Director Fury had (pending a very convincing argument from The Black Widow) granted Hawkeye a three week leave of absence for some much needed R&R. In addition to that, he was allowed every other week off unless there was an emergency which required the skills of the master assassin. But his three weeks of vacation were up and it was back to work for Agent Barton.

"Baby books are weird," she snorted, swinging her feet onto the floor and padding over to the kitchen. Clint met her halfway from behind and snaked his arm around her ever growing baby bump, planting a kiss in the crook of her neck.

"Mm, how so," he murmured as he placed another kiss closer to her jaw line.

"It said I should talk to the baby so it can recognize my voice," Natasha frowned, resting the back of her head on Clint's shoulder as she enjoyed the sensations of his strong hands rubbing against her stomach."What do I even say to it?"

A lopsided smile pulled at Clint's lips as he moved in front of her, kneeling so he was at eye level with her belly button. "Hey there, baby," Hawkeye greeted the growing child inside of Natasha. "How you likin' it it there?"

"You know he can't answer you," she chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

"Oh, it's a boy now?" Clint raised a happy eyebrow.

"It's a fifty-fifty shot," she shrugged.

"Well then little guy, you've got two pretty kickass parents, you know that? We're in with the big dogs, we fight the bad guys. And your mom looks pretty sexy in her uniform when she's not, you know, all elephanty." At the last sentence he took his eyes off of her protruding stomach and lifted them to her face with a bold grin.

The corners of her mouth lifted upward as she lightly smacked his head, and her tone feigned offense. ""I'm not even that big yet! And are you saying I'm not sexy?"

"Oh god no," he smirked playfully as he shot up, pulling her up against his body. "And I'd prove it too, except I have to be on the helicarrier in twenty minutes. But, I could be late..."

"Go on, Barton," she chuckled lightly, patting his cheek twice as he attempted to go in for a proper kiss. "I doubt the Director will let that slide so easily given the circumstances." Clint pouted his lip out like a child refused chocolate before dinner. "No, you have to go. Besides, the guys are coming over soon."

"The guys?" Clint's tone teased. "Natasha Romanoff, are you by chance being social?"

"Hush," she quieted him with a quick peck. He pulled her back in as she lifted her head away and Natasha surrendered herself to battle his lips.

He slid a hand down to the small other back, keeping the other firmly at the nape of her neck, brushing his thumb just under her earlobe. Her fingers reached to play with his hair, every now and then grabbing fistfuls and eliciting a moan from him. To this she smiled and he could feel her lips tug ever so slightly against his.

This was the hardest part about leaving her, he thought. Missing out on _this_. The way her soft lips played on his, or how her body felt in his hands- the things that could never be conveyed through a phone call. Well, at least not in his life time.

Then suddenly their front door clicked open and they simultaneously twisted their heads in the disruption's direction. Tony sauntered into the apartment, trailed closely by Steve and Thor.

"You could knock next time, Iron Ass," Clint glared in the billionaire's direction, not bothering to move much from the suggestive position he and Natasha were in other than to turn more fully towards their unannounced guests.

"I did knock," Tony countered. "You must've been a little too, uh, busy to notice."

Natasha rolled her eyes and reached behind her to unhook Clint's hand from her back. "Knock louder."

Steve, who had not been too keen about barging into the master assassins' home, shot the pair an apologetic look. "Clint, I didn't know you were joining us."

"I'm not." He retrieved his bow from where he promptly dropped it when things had started to heat up, and strode into the kitchen. "And joining you for what?"

"Cultural integration," Natasha informed him. "We're trying to catch Captain up with modern times."

"Ah," Clint nodded, pulling a water bottle from the refrigerator. "What's on the menu for tonight?"

"We are to watch a swashbuckling movie," Thor chimed in.

"Pirates of the Caribbean?"

The God of Thunder nodded, "Yes, I believe that is the one."

"Good choice," the archer approved. It was actually one of his favorites; nothing beats Captain Jack and a good sword fight.

Natasha glanced around the room and then, after seeing that they were missing an avenger, inquired as to where Bruce was. Tony shrugged and informed her that he was taking care of something in the lab.

"I just hope it doesn't blow up," he added.

"Well that's reassuring," Clint snorted, touching his lips to Natasha's forehead before grabbing his quiver resting on the counter.

"Should we leave so you can continue giving your baby mamma a proper goodbye?" Tony quirked an eyebrow humorously and Clint rolled his eyes, but it was an unamused Black Widow who replied.

"Quit calling me that, Stark," Natasha quipped quickly, crossing her arms over her chest. "You make it sound like we're one of those seventeen year old couples that elope in Vegas after the condom breaks."

"Aren't you?"

It was Natasha's turn to roll her eyes. She turned to Clint, ignoring her pesky teammate in the other room. "Be safe."

"Always." He shot her a genuine smile before turning to his teammates. "See you guys later. Enjoy the movie." The archer marched out of the apartment. A faint "Hey Doc" could be heard from inside and moments later Bruce Banner made his way into movie central.

"Bruce baby," Tony exclaimed a greeting. "Glad you could make it. Everything alright down at the lab?"

"Everything seems to be under control. For now at least," Banner added with a light smile.

The five avengers spread out among the living room. Natasha sat with her feet curled under her beside Steve and Bruce on the couch and Tony claimed the arm chair adjacent to them, leaving Thor to make use of the floor. Once the God of Thunder had finished creating a throne of pillows against the coffee table and settled in, the Black Widow pushed play and let the Disney magic begin.

* * *

She didn't really pay much attention to the movie. With it being one of Clint's favorites, Natasha knew nearly every word and could recite Barbossa's "Aztec gold" monologue completely from memory. It was much more amusing instead to study Thor and Steve's reaction to Captain Jack Sparrow and his crew of miscreants. Thor was completely enthralled by the happenings on screen, and to Natasha's surprise, so was Rogers. When Stark paused the movie just as Jack and Will were about to rescue Elizabeth, both the Asgardian and the supersoilder cried out with disapproval.

"Oh come on Stark," Steve groaned. "You could have made the popcorn before we started the movie." Tony waved a hand at the captain's complaint and sauntered into the kitchen.

"I had to secure my spot to make sure Blondie didn't take it."

Thor rolled his eyes. "Quickly, Man of Iron. I long to see more of this film."

"Alright alright," he called into the living room as the distinctive popping erupted in the microwave. "Anybody want anything while I'm in here?" Steve requested a beer. Thor jumped at the idea. "Good thinking Rogers," Tony dug through the refrigerator for three Samuel Adams. Then he turned to Natasha. "What about you baby bump?"

If looks could kill, Pepper would have her hands full just about now with funeral plans. "Just tea."

"I'll have some as well," Bruce raised a finger. He glanced over Steve to Natasha. "How have you been doing by the way?"

"Fine I guess," she shrugged, smiling softly. "Everything seems to be normal."

"Good," he nodded. "Well if you ever need anything, I'm just downstairs."

"Thanks Doc."

Bruce returned the smile.

Meanwhile, Tony opened the cupboard alongside the stove and frowned. "You've got like twenty boxes of tea in here. Care to specify?"

"Thrill us," Natasha quipped over her shoulder. With a huff, Tony grabbed the first box he laid his hand on. A minute later he returned to the living room with full arms. He passed out the drinks and plopped into his chair with a bag of smoking movie theater buttered popcorn. "You may proceed."

She wasn't able to focus on much of anything after that. Every now and then, she would be intrigued by a particular action sequence, but other than that her thoughts wandered and her mind raced far beyond pirates and cursed treasure.

In her hands she clasped the steaming mug, holding it close to her face. It's warmth rolled into her mouth in small sips she managed sparingly. Her stomach had been acting up all afternoon to her displeasure. Eventually she set the mug down, not even halfway emptied, and leaned back against the couch. With a yawn, she rested her head on her hand and stared blankly at the television.

* * *

A light rustling of her shoulders woke The Black Widow as the credits rolled and she found herself propped up against Steve. She sat up and rubbed at her eyes."How long was I out?"

"About thirty minutes," he informed her with a chuckle.

"Sorry about that Cap," she apologized groggily, stifling a yawn as she dragging a tired hand down her face. "How'd you like the movie?"

Steve scratched his head. "I like it quite a lot actually. Just how did they get the crew to look like skeletons?"

"I was questioning the same," Thor added as he rose to his feet. "They seemed extremely lifelike."

"The magic of special effects," Tony said, and Thor quirked an eyebrow at "magic".

Bruce nodded. "It gets even cooler in the second movie."

"May we watch it?" Thor asked excitedly. All four men turned to Natasha, who was dangerously close to passing out again.

"Go ahead." She stood up and shuffled into the kitchen. "It should be on the shelf under the tv." The Black Widow gulped down a small glassful of water before starting for her bedroom.

"Are you not watching with us, Miss Romanoff?" Thor's called his query as he carefully extracted the first disk from its player.

"Nah," she shrugged, "It's probably best I turn in before I fall asleep on Rogers again."

"Ah, well then goodnight," he inclined his other men gave their similar pleasantries and Natasha disappeared into the bedroom.

She crawled overtop the less than neatly made bed, not bothering to remove the comforter, and frowned as her head hit the pillow. Ever since she had met Clint, sleeping alone had never been something she preferred. It created the perfect atmosphere for nightmares, of which she has had more than her fair share even for someone in her line of work. Her hand fell to her stomach as she rolled restlessly onto her side; it was something she did unconsciously now, and it happen much more often on the days her partner was off on some assignment god knows where.

As tired as she was, she knew there was no chance of catching any peaceful sleep in this lonely bedroom. Snatching the pillow underneath her head, the Black Widow scooted out of bed and stepped back into the living room. Thor had vacated his spot on the floor in favor of her previous seat on the couch, so Natasha silently took up the nest of cushions. The men tried to offer their seats to her when they saw her re-enter, but she was having none of it. She urged them to return to their movie; the floor was much more comfortable than it looked, she told them. Steve and Thor didn't give up so easily but eventually Natasha convinced them that she didn't need or want any special treatment and despite their objections, they resigned.

Natasha settled into the makeshift bed in the comforting presence of her teammates. Maybe she would even go so far as to call them her friends. She smiled at the notion. All her life, there had only ever been one person she could truly call her friend, and right now he was somewhere tens of thousands of feet above her head. But this dysfunctional group known as the Avengers she was thrusted upon seemed to have changed that. With the light remnants of that smile and her hand cradling her lower stomach, the Black Widow nodded off into a tranquil, nightmare-less sleep.

* * *

**Yeah, like I said, not much happens here. **

**The more I watched The Avengers and the more I focus on Natasha, she really seems to take a liking to her fellow teammates- or at least that's my take on things. She's found people who have her back and can trust with her life, even Stark. **

**Ha, sorry for all the Natasha feels. What do you guys think about her and the Avengers?**

**Also the whole thing about Nat and Clint sleeping in the same bed since they've met is sort of a personal headcanon of mine. I might be inclined to write a oneshot about it in the near future. We'll see. **

**Anyway, next chapter should be up soon, as always. Fair warning though, with school starting up in the next couple of weeks, updates might be even less consistent. **


	9. The 19th Week

**Well! I finished this chapter much quicker than I expected to so you guys get an early present. ****This is a pretty angsty chapter for Clint, with some not-so-old demons rising up again. **

**I don't own Marvel, etc.**

* * *

It was pitch black. Darker than night with a moonless sky. He was running. But running where? Sprinting in the black nothingness with no objective other than _away_. But what was he fleeing from? Suddenly a spotlight appeared in the blackness, highlighting nothing but the air passing through the brightness of the spot that stood out harshly in the dark. Then the caped figure appeared inside of the halo of light, a septer clasped tightly in both hands, glaring at him mischievously.

"_You have heart_," it hissed as he sprinted past, not daring to look back.

And then another spotlight appeared to his right, teleporting the menacing man in the blink of an eye.

"_What has the tesseract told you?" _

And then another to his left.

"_Tell me about _them, _the Avengers._"

And then another, directly in front of him. This one stopped him dead in his tracks.

"_And Agent Romanoff-_"

The figure glared down at him, a sinister smile threatening his defined features.

"_What does she fear... most?"_

A blinding blue light shot out of the figure's eyes, consuming the darkness as it barreled towards him. And before he could scream or duck or fight or fly, it consumed him too...

* * *

Clint gasped awake, jolting upright. His breathing was staggered and harsh as he grabbed a hold of reality again. He frantically glanced around the room, searching for any signs of the man plaguing his unconscious.

He was in his bedroom. It was dimly lit, the only lighting in the room stemming from the other side of the sliding glass door leading out to the city. Beside him snoring quietly lay Natasha, curled up peacefully, undisturbed by his sudden jerky movements. He let out a deep but shaky breath as he buried his head on his hands. It was just a dream. It was just a nightmare.

The harsh red numbers read 3:19 on the clock at his bedside and he growled. Not again. He pushed himself out of bed. Not bothering to grab a shirt, Clint stepped out onto the balcony, cursing the squeak of the sliding door as he opened it.

His feet carried him slowly back and forth across the smooth concrete; pacing didn't help, but he was restless. It had been months since the attack on the SHIELD base. So why was this all coming back again? Like a broken record, his mind replayed the last seconds of the nightmare where Loki asked him about Natasha. But that wasn't just a figment of his crazed unconsciousnes; it had actually happened.

It was one of the few flashes of memory he had of his time as a mental prisoner in his own mind. And that's all they were: flashes. Flashes here and flashes there: shooting the Director...ramming Agent Hill's...talking with Loki... loosing an arrow into a guard... invading the helicarrier... fighting Natasha... But that's all they were: flashes. Moments where he could see through his own eyes but have no control over anything he watched his body do. It was the most terrifying, frustrating experience of his life.

When the dammed God of Mischief asked him about his partner, Clint was helpless to divulge every speck of information he had learned over the years. Everything, even the most intimate of secrets- her deepest fears, worries, and desires- told in confidence that should never have passed his lips to anyone, let alone that insane mind-stealing-son-of-a-bitch. Now all he could think about is what Loki might have done with that information if... He didn't even want to think about it. Clint dragged his hands down his face, begging to be freed from this torturous train of though.

Leaning his elbows on the cool metal banister enclosing the balcony, the archer tried to focus instead on the various taxis and cars zooming around a hundred floors below at this godforsaken hour of night.

Even though no sounds were made, his tuned senses picked up a familiar presence behind him. He chuckled darkly without turning his head, staring out into the city that never sleeps. "How long have you been standing there?"

"A while." Something in her tone prompted him to twist his head. Natasha was leaning in the doorway, watching him through sad eyes. "Loki?"

He said nothing, turning back to glare at the city. Her light footsteps approached.

"That's the third time this week, Clint." She ran her hand up and down his back soothingly. He didn't look at her.

"I know."

"That bastard's whole worlds away. He's paying for what he did."

"I know." They stood silently for many long moments before he spoke again, dropping his eyes to the metal banister. "This was nothing I was ever trained for. Not this. Not being unmade and having to build myself back from the ashes."

He could handle the ghosts of past targets returning to send him through hell or repressed childhood memories; it was something he had adapted to early on. But this was entirely different. He had been pulled out of his own mind, his soul forcibly ejected from his body, transformed into a mindless soldier under some god with daddy issues; a puppet helpless against his master's bidding. And that's not just something you can shrug off.

"I was," she attempted a small smile, but her jaw locked at the haunting memories of her own. Natasha shook her head. "Why are these nightmares staring up again?"

He pealed his eyes from the city skyline and looked to her. After a thoughtful moment, he turned back to the skyscrapers. "I saw the video. The one of you interrogating Loki on the helicarrier."

"Oh."

"And he threatened you... with me." Clint balled his fists as the imagery of Loki's words played out in his mind. _In every way he knew she feared_.

"That's what's bothering you?" Her tone wasn't patronizing or even slightly condescending, but rather understanding, like someone who had connected the pieces of a particularly troublesome puzzle. He inclined his head. "I was prepared for it-"

"He would have made me do it, you know," he said harshly, trying to shake the images from his mind.

"You did try. Well, the non-you," she shrugged. Natasha had never held him accountable for any of his actions while he was under Loki's control. But the problem was that _he_ had. "We fought, I won. There's nothing else-"

"But what if you hadn't? God...I don't know what I would have done if I had hurt you..."

"Well Loki said he would've split your skull afterwords so I don't think you would've had to deal with it for long," she deadpanned. Normally, her dark humor would at least elicit an amused smirk from her partner, but not this time.

He squeezed his eyes shut as shuffled to the other side of the balcony. "Natasha, I'm serious."

"So am I," she crossed her arms over her chest.

Clint turned around and ran a frustrated hand though his hair.

"Don't do this to yourself Clint. Not again." A gust of wind whipped icy air through the balcony, sending shivers down her spine, and goosebumps spreading up her arm. For being Russian- or for used to being- she wasn't much a fan of the cold. Natasha padded back towards the door. "If not for your sake, for mine-" The Black Widow froze with her back to him, cutting herself off mid sentence.

He waited for her to continue. After a second she sucked in a breath and dropped her hand to her stomach. Then she gasped again.

"Natasha what's wrong?" The archer quickly closed the distance between them, his voice fraught with worry. "Nat, talk to me!"

She didn't say anything. Frantically, she grabbed his hand and placed where hers had just been. Before he could say anything, he felt _it._ Natasha exhaled a laugh when it happened again. Clint's eyes widened in excitement.

"Is that-"

"Yeah!"

"It's kicking?"

All she could do was nod. That was her baby- their baby- moving. Well it had always been moving, but not like this. Definitely not like this. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. "Clint..."

He was just as speechless. The soft thump against where his hand was applying slight pressure almost caused the master assassin reel back from shock. Every thought from before- of Loki, of the tesseract, of being unmade, of possibly ever hurting Natasha- had vanished with the thump. He didn't know how to react; his eyes continued to dart between Natasha's and her stomach.

All he could do was laugh when the little thump tapped against his hand again.

* * *

**Ah, kicking. This has been a moment I've been waiting to write. I just didnt know that this was how it was going to happen. Usually, first time mothers feel their baby kick around 18-21 weeks. I've been trying to keep these sorts time tables in consideration as we move along. **

**And if you've ever been in Clint's position, you know that's pretty fucking cool feeling. Aren't babies awesome? **

**Anyway, and as always, let me know what you thought! What would you like to see in the future for these two- soon to be three? Leave me a note in the reviews**.


	10. The 23rd Week

**Terribly sorry for the wait, guys. School has started and my mind has been everywhere but focused on writing. I was able to crank this chapter out last night, though. Unfortunately, it's quite a short one. BUT! You guys get a special surprise at the end!**

**And we hit 22.5k hits! Guys, that's amazing! Thank you guys so much! **

**I don't own Marvel, etc.**

* * *

"Well Mr. and Mrs. Rushman," a young nurse in bright pink scrubs smiled cheerfully as she deposited a metal clipboard on the counter. "The doctor should be in shortly."

When the bubbly nurse sauntered out of the tiled, clean smelling exam room, Clint turned to Natasha and frowned.

"I still don't get why I have to be Mr. Rushman."

Natasha cracked a smile. "It's just a cover. Get over it."

"Well, they could have at least picked a closer hospital," he whined. _They_ being SHIELD, of course. As the pregnancy progressed, keeping the pair of agents out of the public eye, especially Natasha, became a top priority for the agency. SHIELD took it upon themselves to arrange all medical appointments and consultations- and they weren't exactly picking the most convenient of locations. Driving all the way to New Jersey for a checkup was bad enough, but the Middle of Nowhere, Pennsylvania for a sonogram? By the time Natasha was ready to give birth, they'll end up traveling halfway to California. "I hate driving in this state."

"I know. You almost got us killed on the turnpike."

"Hey," Clint cried defensively. "I'd like to see you drive with these morons. Flying the quin-jet is easier."

Honestly, he wouldn't have minded wandering around the country looking for an out of the way hospital if he didn't have to use the damned Pennsylvania roadways- their drivers were worse than New Yorkers! And _that_ was definitely saying something.

"Fine, I'll drive home," Natasha shrugged.

"No way."

She snorted, "Well then quit complaining!"

A man on a white lab coat poked his head in the door. "Natalie?" he asked.

"That's me," the Black Widow said softly, waving a hand. Falling back into character was almost too easy. She fidgeted in her exam chair, causing the lining paper to crinkle with her movements.

"Oh good I have the right room," the man laughed as he entered. With an extended hand, he greeted both Clint and Natasha. "I'm Doctor McCoy."

"Star Trek?" Clint exclaimed, cocking his head to the side slightly, before he could stop himself. He bit his tongue and Natasha resisted the urge to slap her palm to her forehead. Clint Barton: her nerdy fanboy- it was the one thing that had ever surprised her about him when they first got to knowing each other.

"Pardon?" Doctor McCoy quirked an eyebrow.

"I'm James," he covered (badly, Natasha would add on the drive home). Clint shared a sheepish sidelong glance with Natasha, to which she shook her head, biting at her lip to keep from laughing. _This is the father my child, ladies and gentlemen_, she thought to herself, rubbing her forehead.

"Nice to meet you," the doctor nodded with a peculiar smile, which led her to believe that wasn't the first time that's happened. "So James and Natalie, are you ready to see your baby?"

"Whenever you're ready, Doc," the Black Widow scrunched her lips. She lifted up her shirt, hardly wincing when the cool blue gel oozed from the white squeeze bottle onto her exposed stomach. The doctor offered her a small smile as he touched the wand to her skin and began spreading the gel around.

"Ah, there we go!" McCoy grinned as the silhouette of the fetus appeared on screen, sliding the wand across her jutted stomach to get a better view. "You seem to be around the twenty-third or forth week. Very good, very good. Everything seems to be developing on schedule. There's its head... arms... legs. The heart beat is strong- listen... "

He trailed off and for the first time, Clint heard the ka-thump of their baby's heart. The sound made him almost freeze in place. Natasha squeezed his hand as she stared intently at the monitor. Despite their perfected poker faces, both knew exactly what the other was thinking: this was _their_ baby, this was their_ baby_. They were awe struck, speechless, completely in shock that they together created this… being, this living person. Nothing can prepare a person for that. Not all the training in the world.

"Well Mrs. Rushman," he concluded, "everything seems to be going smoothly. Do you have any questions?"

"Can you tell us the sex?" Natasha asked, not taking her eyes off the monitor.

"Ah, yes, of course." McCoy lowered the wand on her stomach. The Black Widow and Hawkeye waited impatiently as the doctor studied the screen.

It was a fifty-fifty shot, like a coin toss: heads for a boy, tails for a girl. It was a coin toss that, depending on how it landed, would alter their lives forever. Before today, neither one of them had given much thought to the subject. The extent of conversation consisted of a playful wager on the car ride to the hospital, with Natasha placing her money on heads and Clint on tails. But suddenly, it became a topic of unequal importance, drawing their complete and undivided attention. Clint hadn't realized he was holding his breath until Doctor McCoy turned back to them and smiled.

"Congratulations, you're having a baby boy."

Clint's emotions betrayed him for just a second. "A boy?"

The glint in his eyes was unmistakably joy as he leaned in to kiss Natasha's forehead. She couldn't help but smile.

* * *

**Our master assassins are going to have a baby boy! Exciting, is it not? Up next, baby naming and dinner with the Avengers.**

**And for anyone who's driven in the tri-state area, you know what I'm talking about with the bad driver jabs. All in good fun, I promise.**

**Let me know what you thought and what you might like to see in the future. **


	11. The 35th Week

**I am SO sorry. Time got away from me and life sort of just piled on. Since its been such a long wait and I wasn't quite sure where I had intended the last chapter to lead in to, I accelerated my plans for this story. I hope you can forgive me! **

**This is a short chapter but I thought I owed you guys SOMETHING. Happy early Christmas/ late Haunnaka, etc. **

* * *

It was a sunny day. Warm, too, for early March. There was a bit of snow lining the streets still, left over from a harsh late-winter storm the weekend before, but it would be gone by mid-morning. Natasha stirred, twisting in the sheets as the tail end of a nightmare played out in her head as she lay. With a sudden jolt, she was forced from the dream, whipping the white sheet off of her body as she sat up, her hands falling instinctively to her extended belly the size of a watermelon.

Panting, she dropped her head back to the sweat-soaked pillow. The nightmares had gotten worse in the past weeks. Something about hormones being out of whack, Bruce had said. But it was nothing she couldn't handle. It would have been better if she had Clint's arms to roll into. He was still in Syria though and wouldn't be home until Friday.

"It's okay," she whispered breathlessly, gliding her hands over her stomach. "It was just a dream." He was more active than usual, the baby. Natasha could feel him moving and kicking and beating against her body in a frightened dash. "Shh, it's okay."

Then the pain started. At first it was just a slight discomfort in her lower abdomen. Nothing to be alarmed about really. But she made the mistake of standing up. Within seconds, she felt liquid rush between her legs.

"No, no, no, no." This was too early. There were still weeks before he was due; her water couldn't have broken! There had been plans made, a date they were prepared for. In the days before the due date, they would have driven to a small hospital in Maine or Michigan or some state very removed from New York with fake names, had the baby there, and removed all the records of his existence. But there were no time for plans anymore. Natasha rushed to the phone on the other side of her bedroom, snatching it up and pressing the number three speed dial.

"Pepper!" she half-screamed into the receiver, "I need you! I think the baby's com-"A sudden stabbing pain shot through her lower abdomen, crippling the unsuspecting assassin and rendering her speechless.

"The baby's coming?" Pepper's voice on the other end of the line was strained, and Natasha could hear her call for Tony. "I'll be right there. It'll be okay."

"Hurry. Please."

Natasha gasped as another contraction even more painful than the first struck. This was too much. Bullets, knives, torture; god, give her any of those right now. The only thing sharper than the pain was fear; something had gone terribly wrong.


End file.
